


The Masyaf Eagle: Untold Tales

by Kira_Katashi



Series: Peter's Plan [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Birds, Canon-Typical Violence, Desmond needs a hug, Fluff can be found, Friends through all timelines, Gen, How to stop Juno, Swearing, Time Travel, friends are important, help for Desmond, plays during the Desmond saga, with little bits of Origins and Odyssey later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Katashi/pseuds/Kira_Katashi
Summary: This is a collection of snippets and chapters that didn’t make it into the main story (part 1 of the series).The chapters are independent from each other and can be read separately. Just look into the chapter-title if it is something that interests you and check if you know the plot of the main story until the chapter-number mentioned at each beginning.





	1. Concerning Water

**Author's Note:**

> Heyho lovelies,  
You hopefully read the summary: now following are story-bits that take place during my fanfiction The Masayaf Eagle (part 1 of the series). I certainly can’t stop you but if you want to make sense of the things that are happening here, I would highly recommend reading the big thing first; at least until the chapter(s) each snipped takes place. (I’ll write those down beforehand)  
As I mention in every beginning: English is not my native language and I have no beta at the moment. I’ll do my best to fix grammar and spelling mistakes and got no complains so far but yeah, I make mistakes.  
Anyhow, enjoy the little side-stories 😊

> This is set somewhere around chapter 3/4 or part 2/3 from the Levantine Arc. Not included in the FF because I thought it interrupted the flow of the story.

It was a requirement that each child living in the Masayaf castle learned how to swim – even those from the village below joined them occasionally; the water-way was one of the usable escape routes should Masayaf fall under attack. And with the harbor in Acre nobody wanted to have someone _drown_ on accident during a mission. It would be embarrassing in general: A mighty, unkillable Assassin that can be stopped for all eternity if he simply slipped in a river.

On this surprisingly cold day her boys got their first real swimming lesson – not only splashing around to get a feel for it. Splashing around was the state Kadar was in and he did it with pleasure.

Penelope sometimes dipped her head inside the ever ice cold water when it got too hot even for her – she seemed to have a higher heat resistance than anybody else – but today she was content to just watch from a half-dead tree that desperately clung to the side of the cliff.

She could basically _feel_ the unhappy muttering from Altair because the descent from the castle down to the river over the cliff-side was not an easy one. The path came down in a zig-zag pattern and was barely wider than an arm long. And the ones in front – Altair included – always got hit by the little pebbles that were stepped loose by those at the end of the line.

It was already mentioned that the day was surprisingly cold.

That didn’t make the water warmer.

So, everyone safe for the four Instructors (1 Assassin, 2 Guards and 1 Informant) who were used to it or at least had enough dignity to not complain about everything, sat shivering in the water. One after another they were held by their hands and pulled into the deeper parts to float. Then the instructor let go and whoever had its turn had to keep himself afloat and was caught by another instructor a bit the stream down. This was done a few times until everyone could do it.

After that they all climbed out of the water and walked the river upwards. A bit of the cliffs had been hollowed out and created a deep natural pond. There the instructors showed them how to move their arms and legs in order to truly _swim_.

In the end Altair looked like a grumpy wet dog, while Malik took it with still discontent and Kadar was basically a fish. (He had been “promoted” to the swim group after he was already floating on his own without help.)

Penelope giggled.

* * *

Altair was done with Abbas. He was angry and stressed if not confused. Because of him he now had a scar over his lips that could be a feature people recognized even if he would wear a hood.

Risha was sitting in his lap, trying to soothe him but it helped very little and Malik was occupied with Kadar – he couldn’t help either.

He needed to get out.

Determined he picked his friend up and went out of his room. He sneaked righter under the guards noses out of the castle to the hidden pathway behind it.

Everyone in the Brotherhood knew it was there but everyone said it was a dangerous path to take, too dangerous for any trainee, independent on how far he was in his training.

But that too meant that nobody usually walked this path. Altair had it all for himself.

There was a guard stationed there but here too, he waited until he looked to the other side, and sneaked through. Stones piled high to the sides drowning out any noise from the castle. Altair liked this silence.

At first the path between the stones was just narrow but then larger and larger gaps in the ground came. He had to let go of Risha to do the jumps and his heartrate always sped up when he did his running starts to have enough momentum.

Risha over him always squeaked in worry but he ignored her – this was thrilling!

Then the gaps became too large for anyone to jump, the river flowing freely below, logs where placed to bridge them. And in the middle was a lone plateau with one large tree on it. A lush and green tree that invited one to sit in its shade.

And that was what he did. Altair crawled over the last log because it was slippery with moss and laid down against the thick trunk.

So soothing. So peaceful.

It was a perfect spot, really. Without anyone to bother him he could just sit here, pet beautifully fluffy feathers and think.

The Brotherhood always wanted that somebody told the truth, uncaring how much it might hurt. Lying in a report may even cause a demotion if not the total loss of any trust.

And he had just told Abbas the truth. It was unfair to withhold information, especially if they were regarding family and yet – he was the one punished for it.

Altair sighed loudly.

* * *

“Hey bird-brain! I will have my revenge.”

With a sinister giggle Abbas stood in front of him with his henchmen, henchboys, behind him. They all had their training swords in hand and made no move to hide them even if they still weren’t allowed to carry them outside of the training rink.

Altair – respectful of those rules had nothing on him to defend himself and Risha could only help him so far. Speaking of Risha – she had landed between them, wings half open in a warning to stay away.

As much as it hurt him to admit it, he was no match for the whole opposing group.

“Risha, get help.”

Golden eyes looked at him questioningly, but his resolve was steeled. With a wave of his hand he send her away and ran to the right, to the exit of the castle. Quickly the others were hot on his heels, but Altair knew what he was doing.

He ran past a startled guard and turned to the left to the secret passage. This time he saw no guard stationed near the entrance, but he had no time to think about it. Altair ran down the way he knew by now until he reached his favorite tree.

There he climbed into the foliage and looked if the others managed to catch up with him. It took them a bit, but they came eventually with Abbas in the front.

“Asshole show yourself!”

Altair could not run forever but by know Risha should’ve gotten help and the passage had slowed his pursuers greatly so adults shouldn’t be far away now. Mentally apologizing to the tree, he broke off a sturdy branch and jumped back down.

“I am here Abbas.”

“Finally, I thought you wanted to hide like a coward!”

Altair barely stopped himself from blurting out the second Tenet: Hide in plain sight. Assassin’s were meant to hide in the shadows because they were _Assassins_, not soldiers in an army. They were not intended for open conflict.

Abbas made his way over the log and started to attack instantly. Altair had anticipated it, but the branch could only hold so much forcing him to doge whatever he could.

** _“WhaaAAAA!!”_ **

A loud cry of panic interrupted them. The henchy who was the next to arrive at the log had slipped on the moss and barely caught himself. Now he was dangling over the deep drop with only his arms holding on to the wood. He was begging for help now but the others were frozen in their spots, and Abbas made no move to help him.

With a disappointed sigh he threw the branch to the side and walked onto the log. Slowly and crouched he crawled forward until he reached the hanging trainee whose eyes were full of panic. Besides him Altair sat down as he would on a horse-saddle and locked his feet together to keep himself from falling. Then he secured the other’s arms so he could _stop panicking_ and get his own feet back over the log.

With a bit of swinging around the boy finally managed to do it and robbed crying back to his friends.

And eagle’s cry signaled Risha’s arrival what meant help was near now. With a slim, grateful smile on his lips he untangled his feet and got them under him again. However, the earlier trashing around from the boy had loosened the stones and dirt that had kept the log in place.

A groan was the only warning he got, and the log started to roll to the side. Taken by surprise Altair over-balanced and lost his footing.

He fell.

It was a realization that trapped the voice in his throat.

He _fell_.

Risha was like a flash beside him and her talons dug into his back. Her great wings were flapping but were not enough to carry him – what a wonder that would be – but it stabilized him; he hit the water feet first.

The impact vibrated deep in his bones and the cold took his breath away. Before he could orientate himself, the current picked up and crashed him against stone and dead wood.

The force of nature played ragdoll with him, sometimes he managed to break through the surface filling his desperate lungs with air again, but it was a loosing battle.

Altair did not want to die but whatever he did, he was pulled under again and again. He tried to do what his instructors taught him but no avail – his air supply dwindled by the second and his vision grew hazier and darker at the corners.

With a sad thought towards Risha, Malik and Kadar he let go; he declared loss against nature.

~*~

“Idiot, idiOT, IDIOT, **IDIOT**!!”

Malik was swearing the whole run besides the riverside. He barely heard of Altair’s fall and the news had packed his chest in icy claws.

After Risha had flown in hectically he knew something was wrong, but that Altair fell and in the river from way up high no less – he did not want to believe it.

His breathing started to hurt from the exhaustion, but he ran on. There was a lump of white on the stones and hurt and tired trilling.

Risha.

She was laying in her own vomit but was breathing. Quickly he picked her up and washed the dirt away carefully in the river; she limply endured it. With the unconscious eagle now pressed against his chest he ran on until he reached a group of adults.

Altair was laying lifeless in their middle and an Assassin who sat beside him hid in his hood.

“No, no, _no_.”

He pushed through them and fell besides his friend to his knees. Sad faces watched him, and a gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder. Malik’s own started shaking.

“No, not like _this_.”

They were supposed to fall in battle or even old age if life was kind enough but not in an accident. Hot-red anger was rising in his chest until he could not contain it anymore.

He hit Altair’s chest.

And Altair spluttered.

In an organized chaos he was quickly pulled back and the efforts to reanimate Altair were picked up again.

Malik heard the sound of pain, crying and vomiting but they were the most beautiful sounds at the moment – they meant that Altair was _alive_.

~*~

Malik thought himself to be a near adult – too old to be carried – but it was better this way. All the excitement made his legs unstable and hands shaking.

He missed the warmth of Risha but she was now nestled against a delirious Altair who definitely needed her more. However, he wasn’t so good mentally too.

The way to the castle on the back of a guard just…slipped away from him. The first time he moved a muscle again was when they carried Altair out of his view.

The guard – a gentle fellow – somehow understood and followed the others.

In the area for the sick and wounded people continued to prod and poke his friend but he was placed down on a bed within view.

…Malik did not know why he was directly beside Altair when he was awake again.

* * *

Altair never again wanted to go into deep water unless it was absolutely necessary.


	2. Concerning Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (self-beta'd)

> Set roundabout the middle of chapter 5 or part 4 of the Levantine arc. It did not fit anywhere without disrupting the flow.

Penelope disliked the way Altair had treated one of the small kids running around.  
It had been totally an accident that the young boy playing tag with some others came running around the corner and barreled into Altair. Yes, it had been a stressful day with the upped load of training, but it was no excuse to stare down a _small kid_ with an Assassin’s _death_ _glare_.

She wanted to somehow push him – at least for a bit – off his high horse. And to be honest, it was rather tricky to come up with something that was harmless and not permanent. Sudden inspiration came to her when Altair had carried her to their room and simply fell onto the bed and was out like a light switched off.

He looked like a drunk person passed out.

And what does someone do with a drunk, passed out person?

One got a permanent marker and decorated uncovered skin.

Sadly, there were no permanent markers in 12th century Masayaf but there was ink. Black and hard to scrub off ink. Giddy and with a mental Cheshire cat grin she wiggled out of Altair’s hold and flew out of the window to the shared room of the Al-Sayf siblings.

Malik loved books and scrolls and maps and everything related. He had all collected what he was allowed to keep in his shelfs including ink-pots and writing feathers. She arrived at a good time too, while Kadar was already snoring away in his bed the older brother sat at his desk writing.

He turned as soon as he heard her quiet trilling and wing flapping.

“Oh, hello Risha. What are you doing here?”

She landed on the offered arm and greeted him with a gentle head-butt. Then she motioned towards the, in ink dipped, feather in his hand.

“Is it something with the feather?”

Unsure what she wanted from him he held the feather closer to her – close enough for her to snatch it. Knowing, that Malik liked his writing utensils she took flight as soon as she had it, to ensure that he wouldn’t stop her. To not be too impolite, she made a halt atop of the windowsill and gave Malik a nod before flying off.

“Hey!”

~*~

Altair had not moved a millimeter in her absence.

As silent as possible she hopped over and creeped closer to the freshly promoted Assassin. Penelope froze as he moved to scratch his nose and held her breath, but Altair did not wake up. Due to his positioning on his stomach she only had half of his face to work with, but it was enough; the ink wouldn’t have lasted for much else anyway.

Penelope was unsure if the people would get dick-jokes and refrained from painting one on his cheek – she probably would have made one that was unrecognizable anyway – but she made him half-a-beard under his nose and dark splotches all across from chin to forehead.

Satisfied she looked at her masterpiece.

* * *

Malik could not believe it, Risha just flew away with his writing feather! He had looked out of the window but by the time he had stood up without waking his little brother and gone over, she was long gone.

Miffed he went to his box which contained his spare ones; but that had been his favorite one! He had a chicken to pluck with her in the morning.

Armed with a spare one he sat down again and was just about to dip it into the ink pot when a quiet trill sounded to his side. With a twitching eyebrow he turned his head to look at the culprit.

She had at least the decency to look apologizing while she held out his feather with her left talon.

“What was that for?”

He took it back and inspected the feather for damage. Other that it had been used deducting from the missing ink on it, it was just in the same state as of a few minutes ago.

“Why did you take it?”

Risha ruffled her feathers and oddly seemed to…smirk? As much as a bird could do it.

Malik was tired and just wanted to finish his sketch of the castle and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Nothing was damaged as far as he knew and if she _did_ do something he would know in the morning.

~*~

Malik awoke with aching muscles and a hyperactive Kadar. Grumbling to himself he shooed his brother away to go to breakfast – he would follow when he was finished. As soon as he was somewhat presentable to the public.

With practiced ease he was done within just two minutes, however before he could leave the room Kadar was back.

“Quick, you have to see this!”

His brother snatched his wrist and pulled him outside until they reached Altair who was at the time with his backside to them with Risha on his shoulder. Everyone they had passed so far seemed to be in a strangely good mood if not giggling away because of something.

Hearing their footsteps their friend turned around...

Malik barely contained a splutter while Kadar was outright laughing.

“What is it!? What are you laughing at?”

“Nice war-paint Altair.”

The other’s left side of the face was decorated with black stripes and dots while Risha looked as if she was just keeping it together.

“What?”

Altair touched his ink-stained cheek and moved to the next reflective surface.

His gaze fell onto the bird on his shoulders who was looking anywhere but him.

“Rishaaa….!”

Croaking devilishly, she flew away before Altair could catch her.


	3. Concerning Rauf

> Starts somewhere before chapter 4 or part 3 of the Levantine Arc and ends in the middle of chapter 5. Taken out to not tell the story from too many different angles. Little warning: the beginning emphasises the tag: canon-typical violence.

The night was cold, Rauf was cold. But that did not come from the temperature. Rauf was _emotionally_ cold. His clothes actually made a good job of keeping his body temperature up.

It was his fault and his fault alone that the mission went south. Ali had taken the hit for him.

Rauf had frozen when he came face-to-face with a fully trained Templar. The red cross gleaming bloody in the silver light of the moon; the slit in the helmet revealing crazy blue eyes. The man had laughed, crackled, at the sight of him. Kneeling on the ground after he had toppled over a fallen solider.

_Assassin scum._

He had been large, towering over him by more than a head. This man…_monstrosity_…was, what Rauf trained to kill. But in this moment Rauf _feared_. It locked his knees together and kept his sword pointed to the ground. The Templar’s long sword a straight line to the sky ready to execute him.

He did not even notice Ali’s approach.

Brave he stood between him and the Templar, intercepting the killing blow meant for him. Their training swords are not made to withstand such forces and it had shattered on impact. Ali’s cry of pain did not reach his ear; Rauf’s eyes had been fixed on his face. A strange mixture of pain and determination.

While the heavy sword sunk into Ali’s shoulder his fellow trainee pulled out his last throwing knife and plunged it into the small slit that had opened up between the Templar’s chest-plate and helmet.

Both went down and Rauf did nothing more than to watch.

He was not fit to be an Assassin. Not if something like this happened to him and would happen again. Rauf had cradled his dying friend, and hadn’t some adults found them, he would have been discovered again by the enemy and killed.

He was ashamed.

Rauf had announced big words with Ali before to everyone in their age-group who would listen at the time, how they would become amazing Assassins – better and greater than anyone before them.

Childish words of an inexperienced youth.

Oh, how _naïve_.

With a sad sigh Rauf led his head sink between his hands and slid the stone wall down.

_Clink, clink, clink-_

The sounds of the smithery not far away came to a stop, interrupting Rauf’s thoughts. Its doors were opened, and someone came out. Going by the limp it had to be Mohammed.

The former Assassin now blacksmith came over to him, but Rauf did not dare to look up from his crouched position. A large shadow fell over him and a large hand brushed him gently through his hair.

Rauf took some shuddering breaths.

Mohammed retreated back to his workshop again but not without leaving something behind. But only when the door had clearly fallen shut Rauf looked up to see what this _something_ was.

A sword.

Slightly curious he picked it off the ground and unsheathed it partially. Tears welled up in his eyes and put the sword back in and clutched it to his chest.

Mohammed had repaired Ali’s sword. Rauf would always recognize the unusual bright hilt wrapping, if not the name scratched into the guard – not they had been allowed to do that.

Rauf was sitting in his spot ‘till sunset, letting his tears fall freely when something quite near chirped.

A boy, maybe four or five years younger than him by the looks of it, peaked around the corner with a white eagle in his arms.

“Shhhh Risha, don’t give us away.”

A boy, maybe four or five years younger than him by the looks of it, looked around the corner with a white eagle in his arms. Altair Ibn-la’Ahad. Everybody had heard of the boy and his bird.

Then honey-brown eyes spotted him.

“Oh…sorry…”

Altair was about to duck away when the eagle in his arms wiggled out of his hold and made a beeline towards him! Rauf froze in surprise when it pressed into his flank. It was even stranger when she started to chirp at Altair as if she would talk to him.

The boy shuffled awkwardly on his feet for a few seconds but then came over after a loud huff. Altair picked his bird up and sat down at its stead. The bird trilled again vigorously until the young moved…to hug him. It was stiff and gawky but an appreciated gesture no less.

“…Thank you.”

Reclusive he got a mumbled _no problem_ as an answer.

To Altair’s credit, he held the hug for a full minute until the eagle quickly turned its head to the way they had come.

At first quietly but louder each passing second came the footsteps of the next guard-round. They would not look into this corner he sat in – it was an unspoken rule – but he knew it hadn’t been Altair’s intention to console him. Gently he nudged the boy and moved his head to a possible exit.

“Go, before they find you.”

The boy nodded, picked up his bird and was gone just as fast as he had come.

And even if the night was rather dark, his thoughts now were not darker.

* * *

Life went on and so had Rauf. After his first interaction with the young Ib-la’Ahad he started to spot him quite often, his eagle – Risha – never far away. Something about him was different from all the others. Somehow, he had an aura that conveyed _predator_ even if it was only during a simple game of tag – something _raw_ and dangerous.

Then, Altair had been accepted to join in on the first fundamental combat lessons and he soaked it all right up. Only the older one of the Sayif-brothers and Abbas were able to relatively keep up.

Wings flapping closed in on him and Risha landed on the railing he was leaning against to observe the younger trainees.

“Hello.”

She chirped.

Especially in the last few months she had begun to grow massive and he had overheard those having an eye on Masayaf’s birds, that they wanted to get her away from Altair to break her in to be a glorified carrier pigeon. That particular request to Al-Mualim miraculously never made it to the Mentor’s desk…not that he had a hand in it.

Altair walked into the training rink for a mock fight with Abbas, trying successfully to get a hit on him as soon as the trainer started it. Abbas went down with a groan and the other children looked at him with awe while he stood over the fallen Abbas who had not anticipated the fast move from someone who usually waited until the last moment to hit. He did offer Abbas a hand to get out of the dust but the other just scoffed and refused it.

A whistle from Altair came and his eagle company was gone.

Rauf was curious about what Altair’s future would bring.

* * *

Rauf was tired, his last mission had just gone south _again_. Luckily, the worst thing other than the escaped target were some bruises. The lecture of his teacher was a mighty one he could only endure silently. It earned him a disappointed sigh.

With a shaking head his teacher left him alone.

With his track record he would never become a full Assassin.

_Chirp._

Startled Rauf turned around and came face to face with Altair. His hair was disheveled, and he had dark rings under his eyes – basically looking like death warmed over.

“Altair? What is it?”

The younger teen shuffled from one foot to the other, struggling to get out words. What misfortune had happened now? Who did not come home?

“I- Could you help me with the Leap of Faith?”

A stone fell of his chest, it was just a question for help. Rauf had totally forgotten that the training for the next Assassins was slowly coming to an end. It felt like a backhand compliment that he came to him of all people.

“Sure, you have the test next week, right? I too had to ask an older trainee for help. Say, can you do a somersault? I started there.”

The Leap of Faith had been the easiest thing to learn and execute during his own basic training. It was the most freeing feeling when the winds tugged at his clothes. The rest…he was good in the rink but in real-life combat – sadly no. The main reason why he still was assigned to a specific teacher.

~*~

From the ground Altair looked like a small spot high up the tower – it was the day of the grand test: The Leap of Faith. Rauf had come to see his _little student_, had come to see if his work had truly helped Altair.

The small spot came closer, turned mid-air and landed in the hay. Safely. All was fine and ok. Altair was ok. Dazed, but ok.

Pride swelled in his chest.

* * *

“Rauf, you can’t continue like this! If you don’t get your wits together **soon** or find something you **can do** you will be expelled from the castle!”

The price of seeing Altair’s jump was skipping a lesson.

And his teacher took it badly and was beyond reasoning, yelling at him for being too _lazy_, too _undedicated_, too not enough of being an Assassin.

With the harsh words in his mind he went to dinner. Hunger had escaped him, but he knew he had to eat if he wanted to keep his strength up and not awake with a growling stomach in the middle of the night.

From not far away came the by now familiar chirp of Risha. The white eagle sat on Altair’s shoulders who – while not outright smiling – was understandably in a good mood; he had just done his first successful Leap of Faith.

Seeing, that he had two plates in his hand, one still empty and one filled with raw meat, Rauf shuffled to the side to make some room for him on the bench.

“Thank you…not only for making some space. Thank you for helping me…you were a good teacher.”

~*~

The realization was as freeing as a Leap of Faith. Rauf had trouble in real combat-situations; he froze or reacted not fast enough and was with that a danger to himself and anyone who came with him. But as long as he was within the safe walls of Masayaf he did not have those troubles. There he was good, _very good_ with a strong swordsmanship.

Instead of working as an Assassin, who were expected to help with the younger ones in the rink when they were not on a mission, he could just become a full-time teacher!

Rauf laughed in relieve.

This was his calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think, I can teaser here a bit: shenanigans with Kadar are comming up next.


	4. Concerning Kadar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (self-beta'd)

> Set somewhere before chapter 6 or part 5 of the Levantine arc. Put out because I couldn’t find the right places to but the fragments in to still make sense in the overall storyline. Basically taken out to not disrupt the flow.

Angrily Kadar threw knife after knife into the target.

The others did not understand. They had no blood-related siblings. They all could not know it.

He was no _baby_ for tagging along his brother because deep-down he knew, had already surpassed them all. Only, he did not show his full talent in his classes. An early promotion was not what he wanted. Was not, what he wanted to burden Malik with.

He emptied and refilled his holster twice before his mind was relatively calm again.

Kadar had to wash himself before dinner, he stood in his own sweat.

~*~

Malik was away on a mission, so it was safe enough to get his borrowed-for-uncertain-time book out of his store-box where it was wrapped up in clothing at the very bottom.

Ok, to call it a book was quite a stretch, but it was a stack of paper bound together by leather cords.

Kadar had found it quite accidentally while browsing through the library when he had been bored because neither Altair nor Malik had been home. Somehow this golden-shimmering book had been different from the rest even if he had not known _why_. And because of this hunch, he had waited until nobody paid him attention – not that he got much – and carried it out of the library into his and Malik’s room.

And read.

Oh, how much he read.

It was the diary of an Assassin long dead. The unnamed author had been a big brother and wrote of his younger sibling fondly. Of course, there had been arguments and such, as there were in any family, but they always found back together until one day they did not.

The writing on the pages were barely readable due to the bad handwriting and the once wet splotches that had smudged the ink. The Assassin had lost his younger brother on a mission, had him dying in his very own arms.

Kadar barely kept on reading because he was overflowing with his own emotions, but he made it through and realize something.

Anytime Malik went out on a mission, it could be the last time. And it was a realization Malik already had in regards to him.  
That’s why he always told him to enjoy himself. Childhoods were short and had to be cherished.  
That’s why Malik always hugged him when he went or came back home, why he never left with an open argument between them.

From there on Kadar promised himself to spend as much time as possible with his brother. To learn from him, to learn with him so that one day – if they went out together – nobody had to die in anyone’s arms.

A brother like Malik was a privilege.

* * *

That had been close.

Today Kadar had nearly snapped and barely kept himself from whipping the floor with the boy who had insulted Malik.

_Malik is as much of a bird brain as Altair._

It was time to teach him a lesson! A very big one.

Kadar jogged and climbed onto the defensive walls of Masayaf to spot “the bird”. Risha was the best, most loyal and prettiest eagle to have ever lived!

And there she was, circling in the air while Altair stood in the training rink below. With a whistle he had her attention and with an outstretched arm it didn’t take long for her to land.

So fluffy feathers…but not be distracted now.

With a devious smirk he whispered his plan into her ear and with rivaling mirth in her eyes she nodded back.

Show-time!

~*~

All young trainees sat together in the shade of one of the few trees inside of the castle. His target where he ever sat: right below the biggest branch.

Risha had already sat on it when they came to not draw attention to herself with her flight.

And as soon as his target wanted to start another mocking speech about him and his family something fell down with a nice _squish_.

His hair was crowned by a beautiful white blotch of bird poo.

Accuracy 10/10.

Who was now laughing about whom?

* * *

His target did not want to learn or was as dense as a rock. Anyhow, because he did not cease with his insults Kadar would not cease with his hidden attacks.

It was crucial that he would not get caught!

With all the dry land around them dust and sand were the banes of every bed in Masayaf. As much as one made sure to not carry some of it inside one’s room a little bit _always_ sticked to either skin or clothes.

Now, with Risha as his lookout he sneaked inside his target’s room, armed with a small bag full of fine sand. He just had finished spreading it all over the bed when the warning thrill from Risha came. Warning trill 2 to be exact.

2 meant multiple people were approaching and he could not escape through the corridors without being spotted.

Altair made it seem so easy; scaling the dorm walls can’t be too difficult.

Kadar refrained from looking at his hands that were probably shaking but he did not want to get caught. He wanted to prove it to himself, that he wasn’t too weak to be an Assassin one day.

With his feet he kneeled on the windowsill and grabbed the wooden frame.

He could do it.

Kadar grabbed higher and straightened out his legs while moving his upper body outside.

Now he could hear the approaching footsteps!

With forced slowness to not get sloppy and fall Kadar moved the first foot to the side until he caught a foothold. Then, he searched hold for his hands. And at last disappeared his other feet from the window.

Not a second too late because the door opened, and his target and his roommate walked in.

That had been close. Very close.

His heart was as loud as a drum and wind blew though his hair.

The view was breathtaking.

His and Malik’s room was located on the other side: they saw the sunrise each morning and not the setting sun that was slowly wandering towards the horizon, painting the sky in many colors.

An eagle’s screech got him out of his head. Risha landed in the window above him, slightly to the left and looked down.

She sat in the window to Altair’s room.

Climbing down would be harder than climbing up. Decision made Kadar looked around to find new holds in the wall.

Nothing.

He could not spot one stone or slit between them that he could use.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Risha trilled again until he looked at her. Her gaze was fixed on him while her wing moved over the stones she could reach. Kadar understood.

He took his right hand, that sat lower, and just moved his fingers over the stone without looking.

There! There was a slit he did not see from his point of view. What a relieve!

Kadar continued this way with all his limbs. Each hold faster found than the last. It was as if he _sensed_ where they were.

Still, it was a freeing feeling when his hands could grip inside Altair’s window and hold firmly onto the windowsill.

From out of nowhere hands wound around his wrists and Kadar could not stop a small terrified shriek. However, he did not let go nor lost his grip.

The person, which the hands were part of, wouldn’t have let him fall either way. With a small smile on his lips (a giant one for him) Altair pulled his friend’s younger brother up and inside while watching with devilishly glittering eyes how Kadar tried to get his heart to stop beating so hard.

* * *

Nothing hidden that Kadar did (misplacing his things, putting berries in his clothes to make colorful stains on the light grey cloth – just to name a few) kept his target from blubbering nonsense into the world, uncaring if his words hurt somebody else as long as he had the attention of a crowd.

In the end, his target hurt himself while practicing the Leap of Faith. He had to be taken out of training – at least for quite a while – because of broken legs.

As much as Kadar liked the new-found silence from mockery, he still felt…pity for his target. Two broken legs were a giant set-back in training and had to hurt like hell. When Kadar himself had sprained his ankle after a wrong fall, recovery had felt like torture, but he at least had been able to walk with crutches. His target would not be able to.

Kadar was in dire need of a cuddling session with Risha.

* * *

As much as Kadar sometimes felt envy when he saw Risha flying out with Altair he was actually pretty content with his life when he thought about it. It was a good life he led.

He had a brother, two if he counted Altair, that loved him for who he was and helped him wherever they could. The others didn’t have such special ties between them – not until in a few years when they truly went out on mission and grew closer together. Kadar already had it.

Kadar was still allowed to fail; he was still allowed to be young.

He had family, a safe home and regular meals.

There was nothing that could be better.


	5. Concerning Malik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning for dead bodies towards the end of the chap.  
Happy reading :)  
(self-beta'd)

> _This full-length chapter is set right after the events of the Levantine Arc so you should’ve finished reading until chapter 8.  
It’s taken out because I cannot include everything or wrap up every detail in the story or I wouldn’t get anywhere; but that is what this section is for _😊_ for those of you who still don’t have enough or simply want more.  
A little recap:  
Malik had found correspondence between the former Dai and Rashid ad-din Sinan (Al-Mualim’s actual name) concerning Altair and a half-hidden letter Malik’s father Faheem had found and died over – addressed from De Sable to Rashid.  
It starts right after Rashid’s defeat._

With all his energy zapped out of his body he closed the door behind him, muffling Altair’s crying.

They had defeated the traitor Al-Mu-_Rashid_ but it felt as if he had defeated them instead. Ashen and crestfallen faces wherever he turned, people holding onto one another as if a simple windblow could tear them apart.

Knowing that Altair wouldn’t come out of the study in the next few hours Malik made his way up the tower to lay in his bed – his own room went to somebody else when he moved to Jerusalem. Nothing in Altair’s room differed from the basic interior all Master Assassin rooms had safe for the cloth-lump on the shelf that was Risha’s nest.

Risha.

He hadn’t exactly seen what happened to his feathered friend other than she had been smacked around. Altair had held her limb form when he arrived at the scene. But what his fellow Assassin had carried away from the backyard wasn’t a body…it had been a statue.

Logically Malik knew Risha could’ve died any day given her age and her occupation as Altair’s eagle companion but turning into a statue? It was nothing he could ever dreamed of, not to mention it was _cruel_. If she could turn into a statue, could she switch back again? And as long as this wasn’t cleared up Altair could never bury her – never get true closure. And he could only hope that this state was like sleep to her and she wasn’t just frozen...if she was in fact alive under the statue.

A deep sigh.

As exhausted as his body was, Malik’s mind was restless.

Turning and turning in seemingly never-ending loops; never coming to a final conclusion.

The last rays of the sun barely lit up the room when the door opened, and Altair came inside. He did not acknowledge his presence. He only put with a gentleness fitting for a baby Risha’s statue into her nest and came to his side.

Malik scooted a bit over and Altair laid down beside him. After some long moments Altair turned onto his side and reached over with his arm to curl his fingers into Malik’s clothes over his heart.

This way they laid there never truly sleeping, consciousness simply fading in and out until the sun started to paint her colors onto the horizon once more.

They would have to get up now, bring some kind of order into the chaos the Betrayal had left behind but Malik’s body felt heavy as if he lost Kadar all over again. On that note, Malik realized there had never been a contingency plan should the highest Mentor be killed.

A grave mistake, truly.

Because now, Altair had to step up and reveal Rashid’s ugly truth or there was a high chance of a bloodshed breaking out in the next few days. And they were all trained fighters – the bloodshed would be one of a massive scale that would equal those of the crusades despite the fewer people involved.

Though it was later than normal, the castle started to wake up.

With one last deep breath to collect himself, Malik sat up and nudged Altair to get out of bed and faced the day.

* * *

“You’re sure that you want to leave?”

“Altair, I am not an Assassin anymore. I am a Dai and the bureau has been neglected too long already.”

Malik drew his friend into a hug; the last two weeks had taken a ginormous toll on them both – apparent in their tired posture and deep rings under their eyes. Sadly, he hadn’t been lying when he said that the bureau had been uncared for too long. Somebody had to look after it – keep it clean and away from thieves and rodents alike. And the goal was to get the Brotherhood as quickly as possible back to a normal work-rhythm which meant that the bureaus had to ready to house and fix up injured brothers.

With a heavy heart he released his friend and made his way over to the stables.

The stall where the mare stood, claimed as his, was empty.

“Where is Aida?”

He questioned the closest stable-boy he could find who pointed him towards the riding ground after clearing up that he was looking for a large brown mare with a cut-short black mane.

His horse was there, currently being ridden by a woman he did not recognize, though she did wear clothes that marked her as somebody working in the castle. Squaring his shoulder, he called out:

“Can you stop please; I need my horse now.”

She rode up to him.

“Your horse?”

“Yes.”

“She would’ve stood in the stable the whole week if I hadn’t taken her out!”

Whoever she was, she was grating on his nerves. It wasn’t as if he had _chosen_ to pick up the loose ends of the Brotherhood all the while making sure that Altair didn’t get assassinated and was mostly accepted as new Mentor.

“Sorry to be busy.”

“Yeah, yeah. At least tell me you are not responsible for cutting her mane.”

She looked as if he had personally insulted her when he told her that he did. Aida’s mane had gotten too long and with that, had been too entangled to be brushed without ripping out half of it. In his opinion at least, the haircut had worked wonderfully for Aida’s aesthetic as a strong and loyal horse. Ever since the mare carried him all the way to Masyaf while he could only hold on dazed and bleeding Malik made sure that she was well taken care of and nobody else rode her without his permission on missions.

Malik had been snarked at too much in the last few days to keep the grump out of his voice.

“How should _that_ be a problem?”

With a miffed huff she ungracefully dismounted and held her hands in an exaggerated gesture towards Aida.

“She’s a _Lady_!”

Having no nerve left to deal with the woman he brushed her aside, simply grabbed the reigns of Aida and left the raging female behind without a comment.

Ali never uttered a word on their way to Jerusalem.

~*~

The bureau was in a better state than anticipated. Two young trainees whom they left behind had done a decent job looking after it – only the pantry was in dire need of a refill and the kitchen had to desperately be cleaned. But that would be done tomorrow.

For now, Malik just wanted to fall asleep in his bed and leave all his trouble behind for a handful of hours.

* * *

Malik’s eyes started to water when he got a stool to reach Risha’s nest – that his friend was basically dead still hasn’t set in. He still caught himself leaving bits of raw meat behind on purpose when he cooked or putting out a bowl of water in the evening; he still wore the modified knife holster with the strong shoulder padding for Risha to perch on without injuring his already maltreated side.

Whenever a new pigeon arrived Malik looked up, expecting Risha to fly in.

Her ghost memory was hunting him, and the first step to closure was putting her things away just as he had done with Kadar’s personal belongings. The red box he had prepared was already waiting at his feet.

After a few deep breaths Malik reached up and pulled the pile of fabrics off the shelf.

To his wonder it was surprisingly heavy, too heavy to consist only of fabric. Curiosity sparked he stepped off the stool and placed the nest on his desk instead. On the first glance the nest was a large meshwork of greyish, yellow and reddish linen but after a closer look he found many things woven into it.  
There were some coins, some pretty stones which weren’t of any value and an abundance of various feathers; he nearly cut his fingers on two throwing knives! He found out the white linen was a stolen flag from Masyaf and she had a broken metal part with a cross on it too, which probably belonged to a handguard of a templar sword in her nest.

And hidden in the bottom were the traitorous letters.

Going absentmindedly through the correspondence once again he pondered if the former Rafiq not only knew of Rashid’s abuse of Altair but of his Templar sympathy too.

_“You’ll need it more than me.”_

This were the Rafiq’s last parting words when he wished him safety and peace and took over the bureau. And to his knowledge, the man was still alive.

He could question him!

With the letters left out he put Risha’s knickknacks back where they were before and placed the whole nest into the red box he then placed back where the nest had sat originally…the remaining space was already full, there was no other space free where the box would fit.

Malik called into the back of the shop for Ali – they had a man to find.

* * *

Being Dai had its perks…and disadvantages.

He couldn’t leave his shop alone for too long nor leave the city.

That however meant that he couldn’t just ride to Masyaf and ask around for the old man. So, while he looked out in Jerusalem when he had to purchase things, Ali had to make the tour to Masyaf and back only to tell him that the Rafiq wasn’t in the village or the castle.

But now that he had Ali back, he could post him in the shop late evening and truly go searching himself for some hours. His Dai-djellaba discarded and his full gear strapped on Malik was for the first time in a felt forever on something resembling a mission.

One armed was a challenge but he liked to think he has fully adapted.

Steeling his resolve, he made sure no guards were around and gripped onto the tower not far from the bureau.

He could do this.

Right arm reaching up as far as it would go, he searched for a low foothold for his left foot, then for his right.

For a moment he stood on a ladder again, the sound of flapping wings filling his ears.

_No_, he had to concentrate.  
Softly shaking his head to chase away the memory he made sure that his feet were secure and looked for the next handhold.

There.

On his exhale he let go of the stone and reached up further. And got the handhold before he lost balance.

Again, he had to find new places to put his feet before searching for another handhold and haul himself up. Malik would wobble, heart fluttering in his chest, when the wind tore on him while heaving himself up, but the higher he got, the easier it seemed to be finding the safe points he could cling to and stand on. Narrowing his focus solely on the climbing he had the feeling of seeing a trail leading up, some stones highlighted along the way.

Whether it was just his imagination or not – he safely arrived on top and could sit down on the birds’ perching point.

The view was breathtaking.

Now being confronted by it, Malik realized just how much he had missed this. This _freedom_.

A view most never see – the world small and large at the same time and a horizon clearer then ever; man dancing among the winds and birds.

It was great too, for making sure that his mental map of the city was still accurate.

There was the market he always went to, on the other side was a group of beggars trying to get something out of a group of guards and oh, there was a kid sneakily stealing from the distracted guards without being noticed. Malik made sure to remember the face should he come across the youth again. Some of the best Informants they had started out as young successful thieves in one of the cities covered by the Brotherhood.

But now, he had to find the former Rafiq…Bald-Balt…Balthazar was his name when Malik remembered correctly. The rafiq had been one of the elders who had preferred to be called by his rank instead of his actual name.

The chance may have been small, but Malik tried to spot Balthazar from his perch.

He didn’t even notice it at first because Jerusalem was a rather grey city, but the color started to fade away! With a thundering heart he could only hold onto the wood and feel the rising panic – he was already at a disadvantage with only one arm, failing eyesight would take him out of commission entirely.

After long minutes of trying to get a rein on his panic he noticed that further away objects seemed to be clearer; just to be sure he looked all around and froze when he saw the hay below glowing white with a golden line leading away from it.

Eagle Vision.

What he currently was experiencing were the same symptoms mentioned which Altair should have!

Now that he had a reason for his vision tilt it was easier to calm down, and when he opened the eyes, he didn’t realize closing his vision was back to normal. The setting sun reminded him of the time, it had taken him long to climb up and stop worrying over…_Eagle Vision_.

He still had a mission to finish.

Malik got his feet back under him, made sure that there was hay below and jumped before he could continue thinking.

One should never think while taking such a jump – one had to have faith.

Just like tower climbing it had been a while since he made a Leap of Faith and it differed with one arm.  
He didn’t really injure himself when he landed but he noticed a dull throb on his right shoulder when he came out of the hay.

The golden trail he had seen before went into the poorer part of the city…and maybe he could find that _trail_ again. Going by the letters Eagle Vision was activated when one was calm and had a specific intent.

So, he did that.

Clearing his head letting out a deep breath, color started to dwindle once more, and he had a golden highlighted path right in front of him. It was wonderous and exciting and now that he experienced it himself, he truly _understood_ the easiness with which hunts and searches came to Altair.

It led him right to a doorstep close to the outer wall.

To be polite he knocked, and a male voice called out to wait a moment before coming to the door.  
It was not Balthazar though the man shared enough traits with him to be most likely related.

“Safety and Peace?”

Well, at least the man knew of Assassins.

“Safety and peace, I am searching for Balthazar.”

The man made a grunt.

“What do you want from him? He is retired and done with the Brotherhood.”

“I took over his position and have some questions regarding some things he left behind.”

He could see the man thinking if he should tell him or not, but he relented in the end.

“Balthazar went to Masyaf nearly two week ago to visit his grandchildren.”

“Thank you.”

The man disappeared inside again without a goodbye.

Ok. Even if Balthazar had been an old man, he shouldn’t have travelled more than a week and Ali should’ve found him in Masyaf – he had to definitely look into that closer.

Knowing, he wouldn’t get more done today he jogged home over the rooftops in the last light of the day.

~*~

“You forgot your feather.”

It took Malik a second to understand what Ali behind the counter wanted from him, holding out a white feather with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

_A bloody feather to indicate a successful assassination._

“It was more or less a success. I found probably Balthazar’s younger brother who told me that he rode for Masyaf two weeks ago.”

“That would mean I should’ve found him.”

“Exactly.”

“So, when are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

Ali smiled gently.

“Nobody doubts your skill as a Dai but unlike those before you, you were a Master Assassin and that can’t be taken away from you. You needed to heal – get yourself back in order – but now you are back. And even if you can’t be a classic Assassin anymore you are starting to get restless as soon as you catch wind of a mission. Get it out of your system and come back in one or two weeks. I am good here, got some youngsters to boss around.”

Malik was rendered speechless.

“Sleep well and go tomorrow, your duties here won’t run away from you.”

* * *

Being not on Dai-business, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the djellaba behind nor leaving the city in his old Master Assassin robes. It was one thing to run around in them for a few hours and another to go back to the castle where everybody truly looked at the clothes for an indicator of rank. Malik was a Dai, not an Assassin.

In the end it was Ali once more who found a compromise; the man seemingly happy to get Malik out of the bureau for a few days.

Instead of a red cloth under his belt Ali produced a blue one with white ends out of nowhere, matching the color his robe usually had.

And in that getup – red cloth changed for a blue one – he rode back to Masyaf, always looking out if he found Balthazar on the road.

No such luck.

At the front gates the guards raised an eyebrow at his belt, but they let him in without trouble and as soon as he set foot in the courtyard of the castle Altair came out to embrace him.

“It’s good to see you, what brings you to the castle?”

“Can we talk without being overheard?”

Instantly Altair was on the move, subtlety guiding him inside into Rashid’s old study that had been rearranged quite a lot. More seating possibilities was the first change he noticed; the rest was rather subtle like the chance of content on the shelves or some switched drawers and chests.

Malik sat down on the offered chair, reveling in the small pause. He wasn’t used to long rides anymore.

“So, what is it brother?”

“I don’t know if it could be a problem or not but as I told you I found out about Rashid’s betrayal because of the letter my father had found which had been abandoned in the bureau. However, there were more questionable letters between the former Jerusalem rafiq Balthazar and Rashid…”

He hesitated about telling Altair the full truth and his friend used the pause to ask for the letters. Now he didn’t have the chance to omission _anything_.  
Making sure his own facial expression revealed nothing Malik got out the letters from one of his pouches and observed Altair’s minuscule expression changes when he flew over their content.

His friend was disgusted and angry and deliberately sat the letters down on his desk to keep himself from ripping them apart.

“Find answers before I find him.”

* * *

Seeing that Altair wasn’t good company for the moment he snatched something to eat in the kitchen and asked around the older circle of scholars if they knew Balthazar and where his family lived; they were quick to give him directions.

In hindsight he could’ve used this as well as the ride beforehand as a chance to test out the Eagle Vision and its limitations, but even without it he knew where to go before the sun was setting.

The house wasn’t actually that far away from the small hut he and his family had lived in before his mother disappeared and Kadar and him, resettled in the castle. Maybe another thing he could try to solve now that he was older and not as deeply involved in important high-rank missions…no, scratch that, he had to think of the bureau even if Ali seemed perfectly fine with standing behind the counter himself.

Not as pleasant was the woman who opened the door at Balthazar’s family house.

It was the same one he encountered some weeks ago on Aida and that she recognized him was clear by her face that instantly turned sour.

“What do you want.”

It required all of his schooled emotions to not return the snappish tone.

“I am searching for Balthazar.”

“Grandpa is in Jerusalem.”

“I tried to find him there, but I was told that he wanted to visit you and had already left the city.”

For some long moments the two just stared at each other in silence.

“When was that?”

“About three weeks ago.”

More silence.

“Thank you for the information.”

With that she closed the door in front of his face.

Owlishly Malik blinked at the wood just a few centimeters away from his face.

…that had been rude.

He took a few steps away and successfully tried using the Eagle Vision but there was nothing more than a soft blue smudge somewhere in the house in front of him.

Blue meant friendly, right? He would just check it with Altair, he was definitely his friend and should be blue.

~*~

Altair was green.  
A color that hadn’t been mentioned in the letters _at all_.

Malik’s courage to ask Altair left him.

* * *

After making sure that Altair held up alright in the castle – what he surprisingly did very well – there was nothing Malik could do in Masyaf anymore.

After a day of rest to catch up on lost sleep Malik bid Altair and Rauf goodbye after dinner. Both were puzzled as to why he chose that specific time but they didn’t question it and had their own tasks to fulfill.

There were no clouds and it was full moon – enough light to see something in the dark comfortably should his experimentation with Eagle Vision do nothing; that’s why he wanted out at that time and did not wait until sunrise.

With an extra full saddle bag so he could look out for Balthazar on the way, Malik went to the stables to get his horse when he noticed someone in Aida’s stall trying to quietly get her out.

With a hand on his sword he crept forward to identify who it was.

Biting back a sigh he straightened up.

“Why is it always _you_ with my horse?”

Squeaking, the woman turned hastily around.

“…I wanted to take her out riding?”

“In the dark?”

He definitely had caught her with something as she would look anywhere but him.

“_Aaaand_ what about you big bad Assassin?”

“Dai.”

“What?”

“Dai. Not Assassin.”

“Then what are you doing outside of your bureau?”

As much as the woman knew about the Brotherhood, she seemed pretty dense. There was that one little thing members of the Brotherhood did every once in a while, that were called _missions_. She was worse with her questions than _Kadar_ had been and that was a hard to top.

“Give me my horse.”

“I need it.”

“What didn’t you understand about Aida being _my horse_?”

“And what did you not understand about _I need it_?”

It took every once of his restrain to not smack her in the face or anything…his mother has raised him better after all. Instead of trying to get something productive out of the clearly unproductive discussion Malik simply moved.  
He came closer, grabbed Aida’s reigns and only used the minimal required amount of strength to push her with his shoulder aside.

“Hey!”

Malik ignored her and noted that there was a saddleback already fixed onto Aida’s saddle. Which meant that whatever the woman had planned required quite a bit of time. And unlike him she wasn’t an Assassin with the privilege to freely using the Brotherhood’s steeds.

“What do you wanted to do with my horse?”

“Riding obviously.”

“Riding so long that you require to take provisions with you?”

For a few seconds she was squirming what he guessed in a mixture between anxiety and anger, then she seemed to come to a conclusion – crossing her arm with a defiant look on her face.

“You just came to me that my Grandfather is missing, somebody has to look for him.”

“_That’s_ why you want to steal my horse? You just could’ve asked at the castle. Though he may be retired, Balthazar is a member of the Brotherhood and just so you know, _I am searching for him_.”

“_Pfff_, nobody would take me serious or listen to me at the castle.”

“You seriously think you can make it out there alone? Within Masyaf you are safe and the worst thing happening to you is being ignored for being the obnoxious person that you are but out there, there is no Creed, no honor to safe you from the scum of humanity.”

Really, that woman must have a death-wish. Malik himself had saved and protected more women in Jerusalem then he liked from rapists, murders and alike. There was a reason why no respected woman was alone outside without a male approved by her family nearby. Or the women travelled at least in greater numbers together…even if it increased their security only by a little margin.

“When you are _so concerned_ about me, then accompany me.”

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“**_No_**. First of all because it doesn’t seem to get into your thick scull: my horse. You cannot use a horse that doesn’t belong to you. Second, go ask somebody from your family.”

“Yes, please tell me who. My mother who has two young boys to look after, my big brother who is somewhere on a mission he can’t tell us about or how about my father who never returned from a mission? Wait I could also ask my uncle and his family who despise my Grandpa? Yes, oh wise Assassin, tell me who could go looking with me.”

Whispering _Dai_ under his breath he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why was she being so difficult?

“What do you want _me_ to do about that?”

Silence stretched between them uncomfortable, only broken when Aida was tapping her hooves impatiently. For a moment the woman shuffled on her feet before squaring her shoulders.

“How about a deal? We search together for my Grandfather – you protect me, and I help you with that one arm.”

Malik **froze** and gave her a dark stare. Any sympathy he may had harbored for her was gone in the blink of an eye. How dare she, to imply that he could no nothing with only one arm!

Partially because he needed to do it for himself and partially to prove her wrong, he loosened the ropes that held the saddlebag to the saddle _one armed_ and put his own up instead. Then he placed Aida’s reigns back over her neck and left, Aida following freely behind him after a simple whistle.

_His. Horse_.

Wishing the guards at the gate a quiet night he mounted and rode without a glance back.

~*~

When he couldn’t see Masyaf anymore he stopped to take a deep breather.

The implications had cut deep.

But the woman wasn’t there anymore, he was alone and had something he wanted to do.

Indulging another handful of peaceful minutes, he cleared his mind and let go of the words that hurt him. It wasn’t worth his time to break over them; they’re just words.

Back in his normal frame of mind he activated Eagle Vision once again.  
One would think it would be harder to use it going by the texts he read and how much of an _exclusive_ power it sounded to be. But now that he knew that he had it, it was surprisingly easy to use.

As black and grey as the world around him now was, every detail – no matter the distance – was as sharp as if he was right in front of it. An exhilarating feeling, truly. And there was a golden trail leading north-east.

Malik was just about to spur on Aida when something made him turn around. There was a blue spot coming closer by the second, a rider going at neck breaking speed.

.

.

.

The woman.

Malik couldn’t stop his eyes’ rolling when he saw how pathetically she held onto the neck of her horse with her bag falling nearly off – she clearly had lost control over her steed. Just when she was about to pass him, he spurred his own mare into a gallop to keep up with the other horse.

Making sure that his legs held him securely in the saddle Malik bend over and snatched the wild horse’s reigns, slowing them down until standstill.

“Explanation please.”

The woman sheepishly scratched the back of her head.

“…There was a reason why I wanted your horse.”

“You never learned how to ride correctly and mine was just tame enough for you?”

“…Yes…”

Malik pinched the bridge of his nose – that woman drove him crazy! But she was not his responsibility, not at all.  
Seeing that she was relatively calm again that wouldn’t send her horse into another frenzy he let go of the reigns and continued his own way.

“Hey, you can’t leave me alone!”

“I can.”

More due to the horses training than the woman’s actual skill the horses started to trot after him. On the saddle she was as stiff as a board, holding convulsively onto saddle and reigns.

“Where are we going?”

Well…how could he explain that he just followed a golden trail only a small amount of people knew of and even less could see it themselves? His pause was interpreted as him ignoring her, so she started to pester him further.

“Come on, tell me!”

Malik decided to be blunt.

“I don’t know.”

“What!?”

Her eyes were as wide as plates.

“How do you not know where we are going?!”

“Because I don’t know where Balthazar is.”

After that he ignored any pestering questions regarding whereabouts, pauses or goal; only stopping for a few hours when she started to doze of on the back of her horse.

~*~

To her luck Malik’s golden trail came to an end with the second sunrise.

To both of their misfortune however, the end marked a tiny ransacked city. Scorch marks and fire damage all around, old enough so nothing was smoking anymore.

Malik had correctly forecasted that the woman vomited as soon as they caught wind of the smell of dead and half-burned corpses and that she would cry when she saw the dead bodies laying around – especially the ones of children.

This was the sad reality the world was in, outside of the protected walls of Masyaf.

Envy, greed, hunger for power – all was there.

It was why he had fought on as an Assassin. To simply follow his father’s footsteps could only get him so far but when he saw all that misery he found his resolve – it may not have been much he could do but he could do something.

And when enough people did _something_, everything could be changed. The good as well as the bad.

A reason why they had to snuff out as much as they could of the Templars to keep their ideals of godlike power and total control at bay.

Having sympathy with the silent weeping woman he got out a handkerchief and gave it to her, leaving her behind with the horses to search for Balthazar himself. She would not need to see a probably dead family member…those were things one never forgets.

And it was as he had suspected, barely recognizable and half burned laid Balthazar draped against a broken house-wall with a tiny body half-hidden below him.

Malik wouldn’t find his answers.

Breathing more though his mouth then his nose, he stepped closer and took of the remains of Balthazar’s Hidden Blade. It was basically only the metal casing and the blade inside that had survived.

And that was what he brought the woman back; she understood what must’ve happened as soon as she recognized what he brought her.

“_No_.”

“I am sorry.”

Knowing the pain of loosing someone dear, he did not even think about what he did next. As soon as he noticed her buckling knees he let go of the broken Blade and caught her instead. Sobs were wracking her body and hands clung to his back. Like this he noticed how tall she actually was, he barely had to bend down so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

Unsure if it was acceptable, he was slow to move his hand from between her shoulder-blades to gently brush through her hair – she clung closer to him.

“Gr-pa he…he b-believed in me…told me I could _do things_ despite – despite being…a w-woman. Taught me…to read a bit w-whenever he could…”

Between hiccups and tears she told him about _Grandpa ‘Zar_.

He sounded like an amazing man which made it hard to believe that he had plotted together with Rashid. The only chance of answers he had now was, that Rashid had some letters of his own somewhere in the castle. And that was Altair’s territory.

Her slurring became worse and the weight against him increased.

She was falling asleep.

Gently he led her to Aida who kindly went onto her knees for them and sat her down. With a pat his mare stood up and he thankfully scratched under her head. Without a second arm he would’ve been unable to get her onto the mare and he didn’t know how well the other horse was trained for such things.

With one last glance to the remains of the village he picked up the broken Hidden Blade and mounted the other horse, leading them back to Masyaf.

* * *

They had switched horses when the woman was awake again and came to a stop in front of Masyaf’s gate when the sun set on the third day.

With Balthazar’s blade wrapped up in a spare cloth in hand she shuffled over to him.

“I- thank you…?”

“Malik.”

“Thank you, great Assassin Malik.”

“It’s Dai actually. What is your-?“

Malik was caught off guard when she snatched his cowl and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

“I see you around when I am not grounded for life!”

With those words she ran into the village, leaving him dumbfounded behind.

* * *

Altair and Malik searched both with Eagle Vision in the castle for clues, they only found golden highlighted ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some words on the history of Balthazar.**  
Balthazar had started his training alongside Rashid and was originally intended to be an Assassin. During the training-phase he was deemed _ too violent _in the regard that killing something did not invoke remorse in him and his strange fascination with wounds and torture methods didn’t help either. To not risk having an insane Assassin it was decided last-minute that he should become a Rafiq instead because Balthazar was despite his “deficits” very skilled and possesed a bright mind.  
That way he lived his live out in a peaceful as possible manner – obviously had a family. His curiosity however, was never sated. He spend many hours just wandering around musing for example about the differences in gender and trying in vain to understand what drove humans to become murderers, slave-traders, rapists and alike.
> 
> Rashid simply needed someone to bounce his ideas and thoughts off without getting complains about the morality of it – so the letters about Altair were a win-win for him and Balthazar and Altair wasn’t the only thing they wrote about. Normally all letters were secretly discarded but Balthazar grew older and more forgetful – and the Eagle Vision was something very interesting to him so he kept those letters for reference.


End file.
